


Not Always Bad

by BrandyFromTheBottle



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Underage, Fucked Up, Gaslighting, Grooming, Hand Jobs, Isolation, Like, M/M, Pedophilia, Please Be careful, Underage Sex, so so wrong, this is so wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandyFromTheBottle/pseuds/BrandyFromTheBottle
Summary: Ford says that weird isn't always bad.orFord grooms and isolates Dipper. This is not a happy story.





	Not Always Bad

**Author's Note:**

> This fic depicts the grooming of a minor and pedophilia. Please be careful! If at anytime you feel uncomfortable please take a moment for yourself! Grab a drink, a snack, or watch some vines or stop reading all together! Take care of yourself.

Dipper has tried but neither Mabel nor Ford mesh. When Mabel gushes Ford hums and nods at the right times but anyone with eyes can tell that he's only being polite. And when Ford launches into a lecture Mabel’s broad grin dims, dims, dims until it's the world's most miserable ambient lighting. Dipper doesn't understand. They are both so enthusiastic and funny and Dipper wants them to get along but it doesn't happen. There are no sparks, nothing clicks.

“Why don't we ever bring Mabel on these missions?” Dipper asks, still deeply pleased with this privilege but it pales when his twin isn't here to see it.

“Your sister, though she has her merits, lacks the focus of a researcher. Not like you, my boy.” Ford lays a heavy, six fingered hand on his head. “Now, let's find that selkie, eh?” Dipper flushes under the compliment.

“Y-yeah.”

 

Dipper loves the adventures with Ford. Ford never looks down on him, not like Stan. Dipper knows Stan means well but Ford just gets it. Instead of throwing Dipper into things and telling him to fight his own battles Ford teaches him how. Ford gives him a gun and when he holds the surprisingly heavy weapon awkwardly and unsure, Ford puts a hand on his shoulder and another on his arm to move him into the right stance. It always makes Dipper warm with pride when Ford praises him for getting it right.

Wendy was like that. She was older, mature and so pretty with her freckles and firey hair. She never looked down on Dipper, never treated him like a kid and didn't even mock him over his fatal crush, never stopped nudging him or punching him hard enough to hurt. But he doesn't like Ford like he likes Wendy.

But Ford does make him feel special. It's a late night, Dipper’s exhausted but pleasantly so; he's worked hard, running and jumping and trapping, and Ford is enthusiastically gesturing and exclaiming about the latest weirdness. Ford finally glances at him, face bright like a star.

“Are you alright, Dipper?” He asks, smile not falling but dimming.

“Oh. Yeah, just tired.” Dipper smiles, shy but thrilled under his grunkle’s intense gaze.

“It was a rather exciting day, wasn't it?” Ford chuckles and moves to sit next to Dipper, close enough that their thighs touch and Dipper can feel the rough denim-like material. It rubs the bare skin of his knee.

“I had fun, though!” Dipper rushes to assure his Great-Uncle, blushing, ever present anxiety twisting in his gut. Ford beams down at him as wraps an arm around Dipper’s shoulder, pressing them together. It's nice.

“I thought so, too.” Ford gives him a brief squeeze. “It’s good to have a companion again.” Dipper chews his lip nervously and pulls at the brim of his cap.

“H-hey, Great-Uncle Ford can I say...something kind of silly?” He asks, hands tangling together.

“I'm sure it's not silly,” Ford says softly, hand rubbing up and then down; soothing.

“It’s just...everyone here treats me like a kid. Even though I've seen and done things no one else has! So, I...these missions make me feel...special.” Dipper curls into himself, sure he's ruined everything by having such a stupid brain and dumber mouth. But Ford makes a soft noise and sets his chin to rest on Dipper’s head.

“Oh, my boy, you  _ are _ special to me.”

 

Ford touches Dipper a lot. It's nice; Dipper isn't usually tactile and he supposes with Ford's hands he usually doesn't get to touch people, either. For Dipper, though, it's usually it's just Mabel and even then it's gotten more awkward as they've gotten older so Dipper isn't used to being touched. With Ford it’s a little weird at first, because he wasn't used to it, but eventually the casual pats to the head and little guiding touches become normal and even welcome.

The other body stuff is still uncomfortable.

“Great-Uncle Ford?” Dipper’s sweaty, nothing new, but they've been walking over an hour and his feet hurt and the pressure in his bladder has one gotten more and more persistent, very step more uncomfortable than the one before.

“Yes, what is it?” Ford calls from ahead, notebook out and pen idle. Dipper tugs at his vest and chews his lip.

“I, uh.” He stutters. Ford stops and turns to look at him, curious, open. Warm. Dipper clears his throat. “I have to use the bathroom.” He rushes out and then cringes. When he looks shyly back at Ford, staring at him, bewildered.

“Is that all?”

“It's not--! I mean--”

“Don't be embarrassed, Dipper, it's a natural function,” Ford smiles indulgently at him. The moment stretches. “Well?” Ford prompts him and Dipper squirms.

“Here?” He squeaks, looks at the woods around them.

“Or behind a tree, if you're shy,” Ford shrugs. Dipper looks around again, suddenly, yes, shy. He jumps when he feels Ford's hand land on his shoulder. “There's no need to be ashamed, Dipper,” Ford gently squeezes his shoulder. “It’s natural. Do you want me to come with you?” Dipper squawks and jumps away, Ford's face shifting from gentle to surprised.

“No. No! I, uh, I'll just.” Dipper sidesteps into the trees.

“Don't go far!” Ford calls after him when Dipper has gone deep enough to lose sight of his Great-Uncle. After holding it for so long it's a little difficult to go but he finishes his business quickly and finds that he has nothing to clean his hands. Ford smiles at him when he returns.

“Ready to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

 

The latest mission is a successful disaster; Ford is thrilled, scraping mud and slime away from his notebook so that he can scribble and sketch and record as much as he can about the golem-like creature they encountered. It had been about the size of a man and seemed to be made of mud and twigs but with an iridescent sheen like an oily puddle. It had been docile at first, merely lumbering in a boggy wetland that Dipper hadn’t even know existed in Oregon. The mosquitoes were unbearable in the muggy summer heat, the humidity like the constant panting of a dog against his skin. After slapping himself for the seventh time trying to rid himself of the insects, Ford had offered him an insect repellent.

“My blood is unsuitable as sustenance for most of these creatures,” he’d offered. The can had slipped from Dipper’s sweaty hands and fallen.

Then the creature become angry.

“Fascinating!” Ford says at he leads them to the bunker; it’s closer than the Shack ad they are filthy. “Golems have been known as protectors but an environmental spirit!” As they enter the shack Ford strips off his trench coat and large boots, leaving them behind in a pile of stinking, wet cloth. Dipper wrinkles his nose. Ford looks back at him and frowns. “Well, come along, Dipper, and grab my coat, please.” Dipper does as he’s told, bewildered but compliant. The coat is heavy with the bog water and Dipper almost disappears behind its large bulk.

Ford escorts them to a small, tiled room. The white tiles are rust stained and Dipper is pretty sure there’s a colony of slime on the ceiling, but Ford has told him not to mind so he doesn’t.

“Just leave everything in the corner,” Ford says and begins to strip out of his sweater and Dipper freezes even as the filthy coat soaks his shirt further.

He’s never seen his Great-Uncle in such a state of undress. He’s not sure anyone has seen Ford in less than a sweater, given the creamy white of his arms and neck, each pink scar like a pastel brush stroke, some disappearing under the sweat stained undershirt.

“I’ve been meaning to test out an invention to save time on washing clothes so this is the perfect--Dipper, why are you still dressed?” Ford has pulled the shirt over his head and Dipper stares at Ford’s broad, bare back, more faint scars and a luridly bright tattooed star. Ford still has the shirt in his hands, face befuddled but smiling. “Unless you plan to shower with your clothes on?” Ford adds teasingly, tossing the shirt to the corner with a carelessness that has Dipper envious. His Great-Uncle moves with an effortless grace and strength; Dipper can see the ripple of the lean muscle under the slight sag of aging skin. Ford is hairy, but not nearly as hairy as Stan. But, compared to Dipper, who miserably remembers his single strand of chest hair, he is striking and masculine; he is everything Dipper wants to be. “Dipper.” Dipper jumps at the sound of his name, blushing bright red and quickly dropping Ford’s coat.

“S-sorry, Great-Uncle Ford, but, isn't this kinda...weird?” Dipper tugs at his dirty vest, chews his lip.

“Possibly,” Ford chuckles and wiggles his fingers, all twelve of them. “But, you and I both know that weird isn't always bad.” Ford walks the few feet to pluck Dipper’s hat off his head. Dipper can feel the air on his sweat-wet scalp. “You can always go after me. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Ford says and lets his broad hand settle on Dipper’s head. “I don't, do I? Make you uncomfortable?” Dipper shakes his head furiously, feels six fingers tangle into the strands of his hair.

“Of course not!”

“Good!” He hears Ford sigh and pats his head a last time. “Now, hurry up! We still don't know what long term exposure to the creature's secretions will do.”

Being naked around an adult is weirdly humiliating. Ford is unphased, completely relaxed, even humming to himself while Dipper sweats enough to challenge the shower head he's standing under. Dipper’s been undressed around other people, of course. Gym class, the doctors, his family. But he's never been so totally bare of clothing.

And he's...curious. Dipper’s read enough covert articles, he's going through puberty. It's natural, Ford would say. So he tries to soap up and scrub the mud from his hair and when Ford tilts his head back under the spray of water Dipper takes a long look at Ford's crotch.

It's  _ hairy _ . Dipper wants to smack himself because, of course it is. Looking at his Great-Uncle’s chest and legs, the thick dark curls there, of course this part if him would be hairy, too. And Ford is, well.  _ Big. _ Again, of course, Ford is an adult, but somehow being confronted with Ford's size, Dipper feels bizarrely inadequate, taking a moment to look down at his own small and hairless body. He forgets sometimes that he is still young. Ford makes him feel like an adult,  _ treats _ him like an adult.

“Dipper,” A large, slick hand lands on his shoulder and Dipper jumps as Ford kneels to be eye level with him. Dipper gulps, face heating and pulse racing because Ford is so close and  _ naked.  _ “Are you feeling any adverse side effects?” Ford tilts his face gently from one side to another.  _ Yes _ , he thinks.

“Huh?” He says. Ford frowns.

“Do you feel ill or lightheaded?” Ford is stroking gentle but firm fingers over his face, checking his eyes.

“N-no, I'm. I'm fine.” Dipper stutters, suddenly nervous and warm. Ford's frown deepens.

“You're flushed, Dipper. What other symptoms do you have?” Ford starts to stroke up and through his hair, carefully poking and rubbing. It feels...nice.

“Nothing, Great-Uncle Ford, I just--the water is hot.” Dipper smiles weakly. He wants to lean into Ford's touch but. He also wants to hide under his blankets and never come out again. Eventually, Ford pulls away.

“I think we're done. Rinse off, I'll find us some towels.” And Ford doesn't go far but Dipper has enough space to breathe again.

 

Ford is actually really funny. Not the way Stan is, with his practical jokes and puns and impulsive and often poor decisions. No, Ford has a clever wit, delivering humorous observations with a coy, deadpan seriousness that has Dipper biting the inside of his cheek until Ford shoots him that warm, private smile. Then Dipper starts giggling like an idiot and Ford lights up, always so happy when he makes Dipper laugh.

Dipper really enjoys the time they have together. Ford makes him feel special, like an adult, like Dipper’s a smart person that someone would want to be around.

“Hey! Bro-bro, long time no see.” Mabel slides into the seat beside him at the kitchen table, bowl of sugary cereal landing hard and sloshing a toxic color.

“Hm.” Dipper replies, clicking his pen absently as he looks over the notes Ford has given him, hoping that a second set of eyes would reveal something his Great-Uncle had missed.

“Oh my gosh, is Grunkle Ford making you do homework?” She gasps, clutching at her chest in horror. Dipper rolls his eyes.

“No, Mabel, I’m helping Great-Uncle Ford with his research,” he taps the page pensively before underlining a sentence.

“Oh,” Mabel grabs a spoon and starts to pap at her cereal. “Hey! Do you wanna maybe come to the arcade with me? We’re gonna try and make Soos get tickets the way Grunkle Stan does!” She leans forward, eager and bright and Dipper finds himself annoyed.

“I don’t have time for that, Mabel, I have to get this done for Great-Uncle Ford.” He grumbles and rereads the sentence he was on.

“...You spend a lot of time with Grunkle Ford,” she sighs and shoves a worrying spoonful of cereal into her mouth. Dipper can smell the sugar.

“So? He’s teaching me a lot, the other day we saw a rock mimic! Or it may have been a rock. Great-Uncle Ford is still running tests.”

“Yeah, but what about me? Or even Wendy? Summer’s almost over, Dipper!” When Dipper looks up he winces at the artful tremble of Mabel’s lower lip and her wide eyes.

“Mabel, don’t.”

“Dipper!”

“Ah, Dipper! There you are!” They both jump when Ford strides into the room. “A break through on the rock mimic. Quite literally!” Dipper jumps up.

“Hey!” They both turn to see Mabel frowning.

“Sorry, Mabel, I’ll play tomorrow, okay?” Dipper snatches up to notebook and pen and scurries after Ford, who's already entering the code for the elevator.

“I had almost given up,” Ford continues almost giddy. “You see, I decided to to test the hardness and softness of the stone, to try and narrow down exactly what it is when--”

“Hey, Great-Uncle Ford?” Dipper interrupts with a grimace. Ford blinks and the elevator dings its arrival.

“Ah, yes, Dipper?”

“Will you still talk to me after summer’s over?” Dipper looks up at Ford, feels his eyes get wide.

“Ah.” Ford looks down at him knowingly. “Actually, Dipper that’s...something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” Dipper’s heart sinks and he hunches as he follows his Great-Uncle into the laboratory. Ford takes a seat at his desk and pats the surface. Dipper does his best to scramble up and squeaks when he feels Ford help him by pushing at his butt. “There you go.” Dipper’s flushed bright red as he settles, facing Ford. “Dipper, I’d like...” Ford trails off and for the first time Dipper can think of he looks unsure.

“You don’t want to go on adventures anymore, do you?” Dipper bites his lip to keep it from trembling.

“No, goodness, my boy!” Ford grabs at his shoulder and gives him a gentle shake. “Quite the opposite.” Ford's other hand cups his face, dry and rough, thumb brushing under Dipper’s eye. “I’d rather, if you'd like it that is, for you to...stay with me.” He smiles warmly at Dipper and Dipper’s face heats up and his heart starts to beat light and fast. “I'd like it if you would become my apprentice.”

Dipper startles them both by screaming.

“Dipper!”

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh, _ oh my gosh _ ! Are you serious? Oh my gosh, oh.  _ Oh. _ ” Dipper pales. “I might thrown up.” He says, humiliated as he grabs his stomach. Ford grabs a waste bin and holds it under Dipper’s face, gently rubbing his back

“Shh, just breathe.” Dipper breathes until his head deflates.

“Mabel.” He says, looks up at Ford and sees him frowning.

“Ah, your sister. I...don’t think she would...flourish here.”

“O-oh.” Dipper looks down. “So she’d...she’d go back to Piedmont.” Ford rests a hand on his head.

“You...don’t have to decide right now.” Ford says slowly. “But,” Ford gently cups his face, both hands against his cheeks and lifting his face. “I would be honored if you accepted.” Dipper flushes and looks away shyly. “Just promise me you'll consider it?” Dipper chews his lip until Ford’s thumb smooths over it, pulling it free of his teeth.

“Y-yeah. Okay.” Dipper says, feels Ford's thumb move with his jaw.

“Thank you.” Ford whispers and places a kiss on his cheek.

 

He stays. Saying goodbye to his sister is the hardest thing he's ever done. For some reason he thinks Grunkle Stan is disappointed in him.

 

Grunkle Stan shuts down the Mystery Shack and moves to Piedmont. He says he's getting old and should be closer to family. Without Mabel or Stan to liven the place up it gets a bit lonely. But Ford keeps him busy. Even when Dipper is worried that they discovered everything they can, Ford surprises him with some new anomaly.

Eventually, Ford thinks he's ready to go on  _ excursions _ .

He over packs his first overnight bag and Ford laughingly, fondly shows him what he needs and what he doesn't. Dipper has no idea what he'll do with a sonic knife, but Ford insists it's his to keep at all times. It makes Dipper glow with pride.

They go farther and farther out until they eventually make camp. The weather is mild and dry so Ford assures Dipper that it's perfectly safe to sleep under the stars. It's beautiful, really, so far out the stars are bright and so many and Dipper gets a pang of longing when he thinks they look like glitter. Ford doesn't make a fire but he does set up a small box that would regulate the basic air conditions in a twenty foot radius, so Dipper feels cozy. Ford spreads out his jacket and removes his sweater, the jacket he lays on the ground, the sweater becomes a pillow. By now Dipper is used to Ford undressing and undressing around Ford. He bundles his own vest into a meager ball and pauses before shucking his shorts, too. It's easy to lay those aside and curl next to his Great-Uncle, being one layer less of clothing makes the heat from Ford's body pleasant. Ford curls an arm around his waist and pulls him close, pulling Dipper’s cap off to nuzzle into his hair. His steady breaths are warm but Dipper feels weird. It's nice but weird.

“Hey, Great-Uncle Ford?” Dipper murmurs into Ford's chest. If he focuses he can smell Ford's sweat and soap and something earthy.

“Hm?” Dipper feels the subtle vibrations against his scalp, the exhale. He shivers and snuggles closer to his Great-Uncle.

“Are we weird?” Dipper asks low and small.

“Yes,” Ford chuckles into his hair. “But, you know Dipper, weird isn't always bad.” He draws back and kisses Dipper on the forehead, then above his eye. The rough stubble scratches his skin and it's prickly and unpleasant. “Do you think I'm bad, Dipper?”

“No,” Dipper answer and it feels like a confession. Ford sighs and kisses his face again.

“Oh, Dipper, my boy, I love you very much.”

“I love you, too, Great-Uncle Ford.”

 

It doesn't happen the first time but eventually Dipper--he's young, he's a boy--wakes up hard. He's mortified, humiliated and so, so glad that he's facing away from Ford. But Ford's hand is also really, really,  _ really _ close to his crotch. And that is  _ not helping _ . Dipper tries to stay still, tries to breathe, tries to imagine Grunkle Stan’s hairy shoulders but Ford's hand is hot and close and his body keeps responding to it. Eventually, he tries to squirm into a less compromising position. But Ford is a frighteningly light sleeper.

“Dipper?” He mumbles, sleepy. Dipper freezes.

“Go-go back to sleep, Great-Uncle Ford.” He squeaks and then squeaks again louder as Ford tightens his grip around his waist and--

“Ah,” Ford says and Dipper knows this is the moment he's sent to Piedmont, because there's no way Ford would want to work with someone who can't even control their body.

“I'm sorry, it wouldn't--I tried, but--”

“Shush, Dipper, it's okay.” And Ford's hand moves  _ down _ and brushes over Dipper’s tented boxers. It makes Dipper’s stomachs swoop.

“Great-Uncle Ford? What-what are you doing?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Ford hums into his hair, clearly still barely awake. A part of Dipper is pleased that Ford feels so safe around him. The other is trying not to squirm.

“I--it’s just…”

“Weird?” Ford chuckles, each puff of air makes something in Dipper shiver. Ford's hand is still hovering over his crotch. Dipper nods mutely. “Oh, my boy, what I have I told you about weirdness?”

“It's not always bad?” Dipper answers tentatively and feels Ford smile.

“Exactly. And you know I'd never let anything bad happen to you?” Ford finally cups Dipper’s groin, large hand easily reaching to cover his balls and member. Dipper bites his lip against a high noise that threatens to escape. “Dipper? Don't you trust me?” Ford is now breathing against his neck. Dipper squeezes his eyes shut and nods. “Can you say it? Can you tell me that you trust me?” Ford mouths against his neck, voice soft and vulnerable. Dipper swallows.

“I-I t-trust you.”

“I'm glad.” Ford sighs before reaching between the opening of his boxers and gently grabbing him. Dipper tries not to moan but it feels  _ so different _ from touching himself. The larger, drier, rougher hand. It should hurt and it almost does. Ford grumbles and Dipper is afraid he's somehow done something wrong when Ford pulls his hand out and holds it in front of his face. “Can you get my hand wet?” He asks and Dipper blanks out, doesn't really get it, his mind stuck in this bizarre dream.

“Um.”

“Just lick it.” Ford move against his neck, smiling. Dipper tentatively, nervously, starts to lick Ford's hand.

It's salty and there's a weird smell that Dipper thinks might be from his own privates. Ford makes a happy sound so Dipper does his best and feels like Waddles liking cheese dust from Mabel's fingers. He has to shift when one of the forest floor's many rocks starts to poke at his leg. Ford hums long and low into his neck, pulling his hand away.

“Good boy, my good boy,” he kisses at Dipper's neck and it's still really weird, but he does trust Ford, so he holds still when Ford trails fingers down his side and slides back into his boxers and this time it feels...nice. “Move your hips a little,” Ford instructs him and Dipper kind of wiggles until Ford huffs a laugh. “Follow my hand,” he says and slowly pulls forward. Dipper tries to follow that motion and then moves back with Ford's hand. When Ford praises him with another kiss Dipper gets a little more confident and starts to move faster and Ford  _ groans.  _ The sound makes Dipper shudder, nervous and a little excited so he starts going back farther, rock be damned and then--

Dipper's an idiot.

Because it's not a rock.

“Good boy,” Ford draws out the 'o' and Dipper's hips stutter as his brain short circuits and he starts to panic.

“G-g-great u-uncle Ford?”

“Hm?” Dipper didn't notice but Ford is rocking into him, Ford's...penis nudging him. He starts to breathe too fast and Ford doesn't stop but slows down. “Dipper?” Dipper tries to say something but he doesn't know how or what to say. He's confused and it's scary. Ford pushes up to lean over him and Dipper doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. “Dipper? We can stop.” Ford says, hesitant, like he doesn't really want to.

“N-no, it's just...I...”

“It's intense, isn't it?” Ford sighs. “I'm sorry, I forget how young you are sometimes.” Ford pats his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Dipper whispers shamefully.

“Sh, Dipper, it's okay. You're young.” Ford says simply but Dipper just feels more miserable. He felt good before and now he feels awful and he's letting Ford down.

“No, no...it's...okay.” Dipper gulps. “I...want to try.” He turns a little so he can smile tightly at his Great-Uncle. “Weird isn't always bad, right?” Ford positively beams down at him and Dipper feels like he's seen the sun.

“You're such a smart boy.” Ford leans down and pecks him on the head. “Though, you might feel better if you have some control. Turn around?” Ford leans back so Dipper can wiggle awkwardly around until he's facing his Great-Uncle. He swallows again. Ford pets his hair back from his brow and Dipper knows his birthmark is a vague shape under the starlight. Ford kisses it. “Give me our hand,” he murmurs and Dipper does. Ford starts to kiss it and Dipper feels his gut turn over and his heart pick up but he pushes those feelings away because Ford is asking him to be an adult and Dipper can do that. For Ford. And he hears a button and a zipper and Ford grunts softly, tongue flicking out hot and wet on Dipper's palm. Dipper wonders if this is what it felt like for Ford. It's kind of nice.

“Um, Great-Uncle Ford?” Dipper whispers, it feels wrong to be loud. Ford makes a distracted noise. “Do you want me to...” Dipper can't finish the sentence, so Ford opens his eyes and his look is heated and tense, piercing. Dipper feel skewered, pinned like a bug. He can't talk so he just reaches out and touches Ford's hand. He's surprised when Ford makes a noise like he's been injured.

“You clever boy,” he breathes and lets Dipper hesitantly pulls the large hand back to his face and Dipper tries to pick up where he left off, following Ford's example. It works and it's not so bad; it's even better with Ford humming and murmuring sweet little endearments and encouragements. He's almost disappointed when Ford pulls his hand away, he almost wonders what he did wrong until the wet hand grabs his wrist and guide it down, down until Dipper's hand touches something hot and hard and silky and surrounded b coarse hair. His gut does another turn but Ford makes another injured sound that Dipper is starting to recognize as pleasure. “Just do what I do,” Ford breathes, hot and needy as he pulls Dipper's boxers fully down and starts to touch him again. Dipper tries to mimic him but his hand is small and clumsy and Ford is big, but Ford is sighing and pressing kisses to his head. “Oh, my good boy. Dipper, my boy. My clever, wonderful boy.” And Dipper gets bolder, tries things he knows he likes, little twists and squeezes and Ford laughs, pleased and repeats the motions on Dipper. And that's...that's a power trip. So Dipper gets creative, treats it like the world's most confusing science experiment. He tries what he wants to feel and Ford mimics it back. It's amazing and with a startled noise Dipper feels his gut heat, coil, and burst and he gets all over Ford's hand.

“Oh-oh my gosh, I'm—I-I--”

“Shh,” Ford says and brings his hand next to Dipper's to stroke and grope Ford's own member until Ford buries his face into Dipper's neck with another low noise and Dipper feels his hand get wet with something warm and kind of sticky. Ford is limp, panting into Dipper's neck and Dipper doesn't move. Unsure now that this strange episode is over. “I love you so much,” Ford sighs into Dipper's neck. He should feel pleased but something tangles in his stomach and makes him sick. Ford's dirtied hand gently pulls Dipper's until Ford can lick and suck at his fingers. Dipper snatches it back.

“Th-that’s--!” Dipper sputters, unable to voice how gross the action is.

“Weird?”

“Gross!” Dipper says indignantly. Ford frowns, releases Dipper's hand and instead starts to lick his own six fingered hand clean. Dipper watches, confused.

“There's nothing gross about love making, Dipper,” Ford says and Dipper balks at that phrase.

“Th-that wasn't--”

“Love making?” Ford supplies, smiling softly, wet but cleanish hand cupping Dipper's face. Dipper grimaces. “Don't you love me, Dipper?” Ford's voice gets that injured tilt to it. Dipper chews his lips but nods because, he does. He loves Ford. “And I love you. I love you so much.” Ford presses them close together. Dipper lets himself be held because this is familiar and it's nice. It's normal. 


End file.
